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7.7k · Jul 2014
Mirror
k Jul 2014
I stare into the half length,
double wide vanity that sits
poised in my two bathroom home.

It's reflection of me, naked and
unrefined, are often and unmistakingly
disappointing. But, no longer.

I will embrace my scars of battle. I
will soak in the curves and crevices
of the weight I carry with me.

Counting carbs and chasing carrots
with salad day after day were never
really even my style.

Health. Happiness. Heart. Those
are what matter. Cliche, yes. But true:
A number on a scale is nothing.

I clutch my sides and embrace the
mountains that ridge and peak
laterally on my canvas.

I embrace my full bust and curvy
thighs with earnest demeanor. I
am an image of me. Nearly 20.

No longer will I hold my head low
at a passing glance. I refuse to hide
in clothes too large to disguise my shape.

Beauty is who you are. It's not what
you look like according to the golden
ratios or whatever the hell "they" say.
Time for a change. It's time to be better.
2.1k · Mar 2014
Weekend
k Mar 2014
You ask who's around
and who I should go and see,
but it's time by myself and that's
all it really ends up as: me.

When you're not around
and I'm away from home,
I stumble through each day
wondering why I'm all alone.

There are a few here and there
that I spend some time with,
But it's really only you that
I care to be around and kiss.

Don't get me wrong, my work
means so much to me.
But how can I possibly be happy
when one is my army?
****** rhyming poem. I tried.
1.9k · Jan 2015
Stomach Ache
k Jan 2015
My tummy rumbles rolling
into bed with you, before a big
test and when I think about
my future.

It twists at the thought of
lazy summer days and time away
from school and stress and
sadness.

With new years come
new resolutions and new people
in and out of my life. It comes
with people pandering for
weight loss, new jobs and
fatter wallets.

I sit and stare at the girl with
a sizable waist line, bigger heart
and even bigger brain. I stare at
a girl who works hard for what she
has and harder for the ones
she cares about.
1.4k · Dec 2014
Scars
k Dec 2014
I tear away at my skin
as a coping mechanism
for many things. It's tragic,
really...tearing away at the
vessel that carries me through
my attempts to save myself
from the world I live in.
1.4k · Jul 2014
Torn Apart
k Jul 2014
There are many ways to break
a person down: whether persistence,
verbal or physical brutalizations.

The worst type, by far, is the quick
lash of the tounge. "That makes you
look frumpy..." Or "You've really gained some weight." Things she
categorizes and compartmentalizations
into foreign areas of the mind.

Weight is a shallow, low blow, she thought. However, the words slice
harsher than any insult she's ever heard. ******. Ugly *****. Lonely big girl. That's the garbage thrown to her.

What she needs is reassurance. Affirmations--pretty and pathetic--
that she should be comfortable in her
own flesh. The very body she breathes in and carries is the one to be loved.

Size 2 or 22, pants and dresses don't immortalize the true beauty of being. They don't capture the heart and soul. But most important of all, they have no ******* impact on the radiance one emits.
1.2k · Jan 2016
-
k Jan 2016
-
Lips are some of the
fiercest gates to Hell
that I've ever seen.
939 · Feb 2016
Listen to This
k Feb 2016
My poems never made
much sense while they
float around my head.
Just useless words stitched
together to dig deep
at some inner beast
that roars in my soul.
713 · Aug 2014
Pocket
k Aug 2014
My perfect happy place
is somewhere in between
your inner arm and chest:
a place I call my pocket.

Here, I tuck away all the
bad thoughts, insecurities,
tears and restlessness and
am relaxed by the scent of
you, so close to me.
686 · Aug 2014
Pornography
k Aug 2014
Hold your head higher,
thighs closer together,
tail bone just aligned.

Beauty is not a
classic thing, just
another poor design.

If the skin isn't flawless,
if the hair isn't just right,
it will simply be denied.

Plastic culture and plastic people
are what we've evolved into,
simply aching for a fix.

We see attractive as a
*** thing; changing ultimately
for the perfect mix.

Proportions sent from heaven,
a golden trio will do.
But when our expectations fail,
all that's left is imperfect "you."
658 · Feb 2016
Us
k Feb 2016
Us
I'd rather hold onto
the memories of people
gone than try to untangle
the broken strings.
I've never been the best
at delicacy or alusiveness.
648 · Mar 2015
Tshirts in the Snow
k Mar 2015
I find myself on a winding trail
with passing thoughts of years past
and where I was at that point in time.

It's there I realize that, like a tattoo,
trauma never really leaves you. I
seem to remember the snap of my
knee, the despair of lost friends but
then I see the sun.

I see its shine on the snow...rays
glazing themselves over a season
come and gone. Another quarter
year past, but I see more change than
that of the seasons.

Something, indeed, has changed in
me.
637 · Aug 2015
;
k Aug 2015
;
Defeat isn't a word
I care to hold in my
vocab, but alas,
here it is while I
contemplate what's
become of me.

My time runs short
and my patience stretch
thin to a wasted summer
of work and depression
while I envy those abroad
or soaking in the sun, while
I sulked in a desk chair
that I kept luke-warm until
someone else came to claim
their rightful throne.
566 · Sep 2014
Sleepy Eyed
k Sep 2014
Sleepless nights and tired eyes
ring in the morning sun.
There's not much feeling inside,
just another lonely night for one.

It's easy to cry in the dark,
with air so cold it cuts deep.
With the pain you feel inside
so intense, the AM light just bleeds.

Ambien, NyQuil, Benadryl, Lunesta:
name a drug you haven't tried.
Nothing you swallow or choke down
can help you escape your mind.
555 · Feb 2016
Sweat glands at 6
k Feb 2016
I never much cared for
the weight of my body
crashing on top of tired
feet and clumsy knees.
I prefer the more intense pain:
muscle fibers ripping to bits
and tired limbs collapsing
under pressure. It feels
more natural that way...
a mirror of how my life
was before I put myself
together again.
529 · Sep 2014
#%^
k Sep 2014
#%^
One day,
I fear: I will be
way too much of a
burden for even you,
my love.

A year has come
and gone in two blinks
of the eye. Through torment,
sorrow and depression and ties.

Ties made of wire and some
made of string. That were cut
from my cast without
anything.

You've been my rock,
my sanity, a saving grace.
But I don't know what
I'd do if you ever left
this place.

My heart swells with
love and passion
and fire, with the scent
of your skin or touch
with desire.

Not for *** or money or
gifts or for gold. Rather,
your love is my drug
that keeps me consoled.
528 · Nov 2014
-
k Nov 2014
-
Step up your game,
you're shallow and weak,
with more shame behind
the words you speak.

A liar, a fake,
a backstabbing friend,
you're the person who's
masquerade never ends.

But really, you're just so
inside of yourself,
and you're feeble in
caring for anyone else

besides the inadequate
person you always see.
You're awful, dreadful:
a number of terrible things,
nothing close to what you
pretend to be.
512 · Sep 2014
You Look Good
k Sep 2014
Words that inspire
an acute sense of
insecurity.

So was it before
or after that I was
pretty?

Or maybe never
at all...it feels
awful ******.
495 · Sep 2014
Birthday tears
k Sep 2014
"It's my birthday and
I'll cry if I want to" seems
like a good enough excuse
to me. My heart is bleeding
and my pulse is throbbing, so
I scream them away with my
misery.

Unintentional emotion
and fears so set, that I'd rather
be alone than rejected.
A heart made of gold, encased
in glass, surely to be shattered.

There's no where to turn, no place
to hide...sooner or later you'll be
unearthed. Across the hall or the
campus, you're never alone and
that's both a blessing and a curse.

What a smile hides is tired eyes,
and even more serious, emotional
lies. But at the end of the week,
there's no one to see. Besides, who's
really going to miss me?

Packed away for a few days,
but praying for weeks are my
feeble attempts at some lasting peace.
But often I've found, with anxiety
abound, there's only so much time
before the next roaring beast.

Around the corner or under my bed,
my dad used to check to assure my
small head. With heart and body still
in check then, it's hard to explain
where it began. A story to unfold to
a sincere heart and listener, not just
a fake societal prisoner.

But then again, there's therapy too:
paying for advice from someone who
"understands you" and where you are
going and where you'll end up.
But the truth that's really it?
We're all eternally ******.
491 · Apr 2014
Ignite
k Apr 2014
I sometimes wish
I could simply light my
life on fire...a bursting,
roaring eruption of power.

I search for strength and
opportunity, naturally. But
it doesn't feel like enough
anymore. Not for me.

Maybe it's depression, they
say. It's a phase, a bad day,
a road bump in the path.
But what if it's not?

What if it's perpetual?
A continuing state of on
and off...slowing coming and
going from emotion to emotion.

I guess, in a way, that's
life, right? Uncertainty.  
Madness. Destruction and then
rebuilding from what once was.
481 · Jan 2016
Strengths
k Jan 2016
If you asked me today
what type of person I am
I would probably brush off
any attempt of praise.

Today, I am a disappointment:
a failure of many facets.
Too much of this and far
too little of that, I can't bring
myself to choke that down.

Not today, anyway.
464 · Aug 2014
Hotter touch
k Aug 2014
Blood is pumping down
to his toes, but rushing faster
and further to his head.

The room is spinning, his
lungs are burning...he's sure
this is the closest he's ever been to feeling physically dead.

Drugs, *** and another fix:
anything at all to get by. A
fire in his heart, extinguished,
compares not to the tears in his eyes.

Without anyone in the world, he
readies one last hit. He'd rather
clutch onto a syringe that admit
the pain he feels inside.
464 · Sep 2014
Squeeze
k Sep 2014
There's a place in my body
that I can't quite place, but I
can feel it clenching and forcing
my swollen heart to race.

It roars when I'm home or
alone or with my love, but worse
yet when I need to depart from
them...when I'm empty of...

I don't know. I'm bombarded
with second guesses and pain,
wondering when I'll escape the
giant burden of blame,

that I push on myself with un-
reasonable expectations. And
feel inept and full of bitter, hateful
sensations.

Feels that shock my system in
whole. Static emotion that shocks
each person I hold, so near and dear
to a heart so true, that I want to squeeze on to my comforts like glue.

But I end up squeezing myself instead,
with anxiety and panic and sadness and dread. I don't have anyone or anything to blame, except a disorder
that strangles me ever so plain.

Don't I dare announce it or share it to all, for the risk of judgement, stigma: society's fatal flaws. The aftermath would be too gruesome to bear, so for
now I'll attempt to do what I can: repair.
436 · Jun 2014
Wandering
k Jun 2014
Wandering mind, idle hands:
they're called the devil's playground
for a reason. I slam myself into
the over analysis of nightmares
of mid-day slumbers.

Forcing sleep upon my waking body
to numb the pain of another useless
day in another useless body stuck in
this useless state of mind. That's all
it ever is, though. Place and thought.

But I'm comfortable set in misery
and pushing away the closest things
and people to love and home that I have. Cutting strings and burning bridges were always my favorite past time.

That type of self detriment always comes easier than dragging some sort of blade to idle flesh. Starving your body from life is much easier than
purging dinner from my swollen stomach. Full and "happy" because I live in America.

I tell you this: there are other ways of
hurting oneself that don't involve physical infliction. I find that of the mental and emotional type much more satisfying.
418 · Jul 2014
Pillow Talk
k Jul 2014
There's nothing more luxurious
than tossing and turning with conversation between my head
and the pillow it rests on.

Sleep is a desperate cry away,
between the anxieties of the night
and causal analysis of the last
thirteen hours of existence.
415 · Mar 2014
Viewing
k Mar 2014
Come one, come all
to the show on parade.
The polished masterpiece
arranged for display.

With a trimmed suit,
styled hair, colored averagely
they look over her and her credentials
with skepticism and indignant faces.

It's all about how you
look on paper,
it seems.
Whether your linkedin account
has enough connections
or if your GPA
is higher than the price of
gasoline.

No longer important
is the measure of one's heart
or one's eagerness to learn,
because no one will give you
a glance, without three
references and a concrete
resume to support your
near militaristic agenda
at finding the right place
to work.
411 · Oct 2014
Hard
k Oct 2014
Nothing churns harder
than the negative feelings
locked inside a chest of
regret and depression.

If you can't face the
demons inside, it makes
it near impossible
to face the present.
383 · Jan 2015
Cracked
k Jan 2015
I hate reading about diet attempts
and people pushing half-assed
remedies to fix an already fractured
view of reality that says fat is failure.

"Fat is ugly. Fat is wrong. Rolling
curves on any body screams lazy,
inadequate, unacceptable and
less."

Sometimes that toxic seed of thought
taints the soul resting in my ribcage.
It quakes the muscles entwined masterfully in my bones. It makes me feel hatred. For myself, not others.

It's easier to throw up your dinner than to push up your esteem. Besides, lying on a cold bathroom floor is more refreshing than any gym I've ever encountered.

I'm stronger than a stereotype. I'm stronger than another disorder. I'm stronger than I get credit for and than the people that push me down for who I am.
This is a ******* mess of thoughts that I probably won't ever try to untangle.
378 · Feb 2015
Apathy
k Feb 2015
You cut like raw glass
against smooth skin on
a dry day: bitterly, with such
sharp precision it pulses
with the blood that spills out
my wound.

Safe in the belly of your beholder,
you spare nothing but hurt
and demand nothing of anyone,
but least off, yourself.

You complicated *****; you
horrible fiend: there's little that's
worse than words scorched
with your name.
374 · Oct 2014
letter to God
k Oct 2014
Postmarked today,
return to sender.
Package contained:
older, no better.
Letter inside read
"keep your own 'treasure.'"
361 · Jul 2014
My beautiful friend
k Jul 2014
When did hugging a
porcelain crown make
you the beautiful person
you've always been?

When did returning all
a day's calories make things
a bit better for you to deal
with?

Control. Power. Devestation.
All you're doing is losing.
Losing inches and pounds to
illness and frowns...ones that
are noticed more than you think.
356 · Feb 2016
^
k Feb 2016
^
Time has a way of
sealing our fate before
we ever realize the
countdown began.
347 · Oct 2014
\\\
k Oct 2014
\\\
Counting and calculating
have always been my strong
suit; whether it's people who
dislike me, the hours of sleep I
lose or how many times I think
how nice it'd be to sleep away time.

You remind me that there are
better things to count: like the hours
until I get to see you, or the days
that we spend together. My most
favorite, though, is when you teach
me to forget.

I forget the pounds on the scale or
the extra bites of dinner I didn't need
or the ****** people in my life and
their negativity.

These are the things I deserve to lose,
and gain other things and fade into you.
347 · Dec 2014
Shell
k Dec 2014
It's easier to whisper
the thoughts from the
caverns of your mind
into the cheap cotton
strands of my pillow case
than it is to face the world
at a college where people
care more about what I can
offer them instead of the soul
behind the skin they see.
345 · Oct 2014
bed: enemy of the state
k Oct 2014
Beautifully tragic:
warm, but smothering.
Home-like, but woeing.
The sight of the bed that
swallows his hopes and
dreams.

Each day, I lose glimpse of
his fight: his endless struggle
of heart, mind and body and the
15 inch foam coffin that holds him
hostage to the world inside his head.

"You're worthless. You don't matter..."
Screams uttered by the supposed
"supporting team." Who the hell are they to you anyway? Flesh and blood
mean little when his financial value
is higher dead than alive.

The greatest fear, sitting in the hearts
of viewers (idle victims of the scene
unfolding), is the penultimate event.
The second to the end: for it is the one we will never see coming. The last "good" one before the worst one.

The last night that the bed holds him tight before the bullet squeezes him tighter.
344 · Sep 2014
Apathy
k Sep 2014
There's nothing that
breaks me more than the
things I think and the words
I allow to slip from my brain to
my tounge.

A war rages on and on
inside my mind, but I'm afraid
to share it with anyone but those
who are forced to keep it a secret.
But does it really help?

Apathy. Indifference. Unaffected.
That's not me. Not a single part of
that is in my blood. My brain forces
it into my heart until I swell up and
break down into embarrassing pieces.

I'm tired. Tired of the faux thoughts
and the restless nights and the stomach
pangs and aches that remind me of the
crashing emotional waves that roar inside.

I determine who I am. I determine what I ought to be. I matter, God ******. If everyone else can see it, why can't I?
You can change.
334 · Mar 2014
Are you sure?
k Mar 2014
Is this the story you want to be a part of?

All of the mess
the upsets
the tears and tissues
the irrationalities
the humanness and flaws
that stitch together
this imperfect person.

I am me.
Unfortunately.
But it is who
I will always be.

I'm hoping you're okay
with this humanness of me.
The awful and beautiful things
that make me the girl I was
and the woman I hope to be.
330 · Jul 2014
Prayers to the Sky
k Jul 2014
It's been far too long since
I picked up a hymnal, or
endulged in the physical
flesh and blood of God.

I pray for peace: among
others: friend or foe and for
me. So that I can be ok with
myself and sleep soundly.

Why am I so afraid to go back
into a place that gave me solice
in times where I needed it most?
Distance. Laziness. Excuses. All
signs that point me in the opposite
direction of where I need to be...

But if I know this and I know how
to solve it, why don't I? Why don't
I reconnect with faith? Why don't I
motivate myself to do it.

I don't really know.
328 · Aug 2015
Destruction of the Self
k Aug 2015
The world seems to
fall apart so fluidly after
one breath.

One single moment in space
and time that allows my tightly
wound ribbon to curl and fall
below my feet.

I look down as it sinks to the
dust and mess that lay below;
a once imaginary place for this
neatly kept masterpiece.
327 · Dec 2014
Troubled
k Dec 2014
One of the biggest
mistakes I continue
to make is allowing
myself to get drunk
on my own sadness.

Depression and lone-
some feelings rest so
willingly in my soul,
that I let them drain
and pull and take their
toll.

Dragging on my thoughts
and mistakes from the past,
they tug on old desperation
and break the case around my
heart and chest.

I've got regrets and bad
thoughts and **** self
esteem from years ago,
a person I wasn't proud to
be, but did so to fill some
unidentifiable void in me.

I needed God and self-love
and other things I thought
would fix me, but I shut
it all out. Sleeve of society
seemed much more appealing.
324 · Mar 2014
Future
k Mar 2014
Cliche and unimportant:
the worries of a perpetual
spaz who cannot let go
of "her control" of the world.

Because, for her,
reality has a firm place
in her calloused palm,
while she truly plays
puppeteer to the hand dealt
to her each day.

With every interaction,
emotion, situation and the like,
she's pushed farther.
Farther away from "the plan"
and closer to where
she should be.

Why, then, is it so bad?
Why, then, does anxiety creep?
When control, fickle like the weather,
escapes so easily from her grasp.
321 · Apr 2014
Heart cracked open
k Apr 2014
Tonight, I poured my
emotional mess on the sidewalks.
I watched it splatter onto the brick
walls next to me and into the cool
cement below my feet.

I let the anxiety take control, again.
I let it feast on my sadness and spew
out manifestations of angst and pain that only a mind such as mine could. But I suppose that's not the worst thing.

I feel like I'm failing again. I feel like I'm losing a piece of myself. I'm losing grip with what I need to be doing.

But who the **** even knows what that is anyway?
**** ******* poem for a **** ******* night.
320 · Jul 2015
.
k Jul 2015
.
Just another let down
with a quick lash to
ensure that spark on
your toungue hits
deep enough to leave
a scar.

Disappointment doesn't
follow surprise this time
because I expect no less
from the compassionless
and weak of heart.

Just business is the excuse;
the business of burning dreams
and absorbing the energy
from one to satiate another.

Never created or destroyed,
just stolen outright from
another to keep you going
from day to day.
305 · Jan 2016
Stalling
k Jan 2016
It makes sense to me
that bathrooms here
and far have seen some of
the truest honesty any
single person can offer.

Here, I'm offered privacy
rarely found any place other
than a white throne of
solitude and forced self
reflection.

Maybe a sanctuary too,
but not like a church. A
place quiet to let a piece
break without someone to
intervene and ruin the
facade we're all trying
too hard...too long to hold on.

But today, I'll lean my heavy
thoughts on the grey box and
let blemishes slip to the floor.

If only I had a cushion.
301 · Jul 2014
Love like Murder
k Jul 2014
Her grip on him was iron
and long. Kisses locked on
necks and arms wrapped so
strong.

It's near criminal, the feelings
she possesses for him--a man
with great prowess who'd go
out on a limb.

A limb for her happiness, her
long running love. Forever, just
maybe, for this couple so strong.
300 · Jun 2014
Limbo
k Jun 2014
Near 20, I was hoping for
too much, too fast. Praying for
hopes and dreams and glorious
memories that I was sure would
last.

What I've got is more than most,
I will admit unapologetically. I
guess that's just the American inside me.

I expect what I have and I'm grateful
for it, if that makes any sense at all.
I have food on my plate and a roof over head, but somehow I yearn for more...a greater call.

Near rhymes are nice, but symphonies of melodic rejoice are more my speed. Things that go together and mesh and generally agree.

I'm looking for a greater self and purpose: things not easily found. I thought I always knew what I wanted, but perhaps I'm not that profound.

I take pride in what I know and love all I can, but is that enough to save a soul? This life is only a short time coming and already partially gone; maybe there's more to this life story than racing towards worldly goals.
297 · Oct 2014
Poor plan
k Oct 2014
A plant can't grow
without sunshine,
rain or the proper
tenderness and care
that few with green
thumbs, of the highest
regard, can provide.

These seeds, babes in
their own right, need
soil and space and air to
breathe...a balance
tricky to obtain. Mother
Nature, the Provider of
goodness and grace,
fills the Earth with
endless opportunities--

Places for seedlings to
root and stretch their
stalks and leaves. The
soil, precise and sweet,
must enrich the vulnerability
it encases--a new being
so slight, that the swift
stamp of a foot will
obliterate it's existence.
280 · Aug 2014
*
k Aug 2014
*
Why do you borrow
someone else's lines
when you have some all
of your own, bottled up
inside your little head?

Everyone has the ability
to write and think and
speak their mind: even if
it's something of a topic
that's too risqué to tread.

Pain, ***, hurt, loss,
depressed...poetry screams
"Bring me your weary and I
will revive--reenergize--renew"
even if you'd rather be dead.
280 · Jul 2014
What to Do
k Jul 2014
What do you do
when your jaw clenches
so tight that you feel your
teeth crashing together to choke
back the emotions you're bottling up?

Hold it in.
Don't break open.
The raw form of you
is simply too vulnerable
to share with others. No, just
a select few are privileged to an
uglier version of inside that you mask.

Eventually, though,
you'll unravel. Coming un-
done from the charade you put
forth for the world to see. Phantom
emotions to cloud what you truly feel
will fade just like the people you think
are there to support you & your chaos.
275 · Jun 2014
Claws
k Jun 2014
When I think of her,
I travel back to the age
of precisely 14. Five years
pathetic from my current
life place, but I almost can't
help myself. Almost.

After all this time, it's not
you I don't trust. Really. I'd
be able to admit that. But it's
her. It's the thought and feeling
of knowing she once danced across
your skin, breathed you in and held
you so close like I desperately do.

I never want to lose this. Never want
to lose you, in my arms and I in yours.
It's inconsequential, but then again,
so were a lot of things.
274 · Feb 2016
crushcrush
k Feb 2016
Killing my dreams is
something you never
planned on. It's just
collateral damage from
your inability to get
your ******* **** together.
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